


Moments

by SliverQuill



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Loyalties, POV Minor Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SliverQuill/pseuds/SliverQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Watch over your village; watch over your clan." </p><p>No one had ever thought to blame him for suggesting the idea of a decoy the first place, that was the reason for the Nidaime's sacrifice and yet sometimes Kagami wishes he could have shouldered part of the blame. Spontaneous moments of Kagami Uchiha's life, thoughts and conscience. Flashfic. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I have no idea how I started with this, I just started to contemplate how an Uchiha who had close ties with the Hokage would feel and somehow this came out.

**I**

 “Tobirama-sama?” a small boy, barely the age of seven is visiting the memorial. Alone.

  The white-haired Senju raises his eyebrows, taken aback by such formal address.

  “Tobirama-sama would be enough. Yes?”

oo  The kid avoids direct eye contact, gazing somberly at his feet. From his blatantly distinctive appearance; Tobirama knows the boy is an Uchiha. His scruffy hair jet black, tousled haphazardly by whispering winds, as his eyes grew grimmer when set on the stones that commemorate the dead.

  “My apologies,” the boy gives a polite reply, trying to smile, only to have his emotions shrouded by muddled grief. “Is Tobriama-sama here for someone?”

  Tobirama raises his eyebrows again, amused. “Why do you ask?”

  “My mother died a few days ago, my father died just after I was born so I’m remembering them… Does Tobirama-sama know anyone here?” he motions towards the names engraved on the monolith, eyes already misty. But he mustn’t cry, mother wouldn’t want him to. He was a grown boy from now on. He wouldn’t condone such unnecessary emotions. He bit his lip in slight frustration, striving to smother his woes, bottle them and cast them away to an endless abyss known as memory. Yet the tears still come; the tears come hard.

  Tobirama sighs, running his adroit fingers—trained specifically for the subtle manipulation of kunais and shurikens; shinobis tools—through the countless appellations engraved on the bare, cold stone, each one of them evoking a heart-wrenching recollection.  “My cousins Touka, Yoshino are here, there’s Sasuke Sarutobi, Hiruzen’s father, many others too. All people who fought, bled and died for the village.”

  The boy nods, droplets receding from his eyes, after rubbing them, pursued to initiate conversation. “Tobirama-san, what about your parents?”

  Killed by the Uchiha.

  That would have the most truthful answer, except Tobirama swallows those words and merely says: “they died before this village was founded.” Not a lie, nor was it entirely truthful for part of the truth was neglected. “How about your parents, boy?”

  “They died protecting the village,” the child tried to beam, look proud, instead his contrived smile only serves to accentuate his forlorn appearance.

  _The boy is still young, still oblivious to his clan’s volatile nature_ , Tobirama reminds himself and asks, by curiosity: “what’s your name, child?”

  “Kagami,” the boy nods. “Kagami Uchiha.”

**II**

  Kagami was neither the strongest, nor the most intelligent of the Uchiha but he did have his fortes. For one thing, he was the perceptive one, prudent, sensitive—not necessarily caring, nonetheless what one could deem morally orthodox. This was perhaps the reason why he never truly succumbed to his clan’s Curse of Hatred, realising the price of power comes with the price of immense responsibility and hence he maintains his rationality, his sharpened instincts, careful not to let his conscience slack.

  Yet for the Uchiha, the keyway to strength is hatred, something Kagami not once possessed enough, ergo, despite acquiring his clan’s renowned kekkai genkai: the Sharingan, at the age of 9, he never once sought out the Mangekyo, a trait, the second evolution of the eye that is coveted even greater throughout the Shinobi World. Something that could be claimed as either a disadvantage or a blessing, inasmuch as the ocular prowess endowed to its owner, it bears the possibility to corrode the chakra pathways lining the eye, stripping away sight—an Uchiha’s primary sense. Kagami decides it is both.

  Fair is fair, power cannot be attained by those unwilling to shoulder its risks and that particular boy concludes it’s not worth it. 

 

**III**

  Then there is also the fact that he is devoted, not to the clan but to the village. At a time when vestiges of hostiles from the Warring Clans Era loiters, his clan isn’t happy, their discontent with the Senju’s occupying the Hokage mantle becomes more manifest in the coming years and Madara Uchiha’s sympathisers continue to multiply restlessly. However Kagami tries to ignore the underlying tension, at least for the moment.

  When Konohagakure was first founded, he had been a mere suckling infant, blissfully unaware favour’s fickleness in the Shinobi World, this also meant his view of Konoha remains relatively untainted by bias and bigotry from a bloodier epoch, best confined to the pages of a history book. The past. Everything must move on, ideals must adapt and alter to persist when time runs its rill.

 

**IV**

  Despite his devotion to Konoha and the Nidaime, Kagami never considers himself a pariah in his clan, for they know his value, he knows his value but he never dares to exploit it.

  _Protect your village, protect you clan_ —those words he had adhered to for life yet, just as the sentence itself was worded, the village comes first. Yes, the village must always come first.

 

**V**

  Possibly the plumpest boy Kagami has ever encountered sits on the fence before him, those fleshy legs jiggling profusely as they dangled. It’s painfully obvious that his face is red from crying.

  Kagami was an empathetic person and understood what happened, how the boy felt immediately. A couple of kids across the pavement were snickering with delight, uttering cruel japes about the boy’s weight.

  “They say… they say… I’m too fat to be a shinobi,” without warning the boy begins to sob again, seeking consolation from Kagami.

  Yet Kagami never once considered himself a sympathetic person, he’s a _shinobi_  or would be one and a sympathetic shinobi is perhaps the most drastic oxymoron of his era.

  Instead he smiles back. “You’re not fat, just plump, joyous. Nay, call it horizontally gifted.”

  “Horizontally gifted? That’s just another way of saying fat isn’t it?” The boy looks at him miserably.

  “Nay, it’s another way of saying gifted. What’s your name?”

  “Torifu Akimichi.” The boy wipes off the trickling tears as Kagami holds out his hand.

 

**VI**

  In the midst of the woods bordering the Land of Fire, a group of seven shinobi sat huddled in a circle.

  “Twenty,” their leader, none other than the Nidaime Hokage Tobirama Senju, uttered gravely, still stolid, as his palm met the grounds. “Judging from their Chakra, Kumogakure… master bounty hunters.”

  The thick canopy of leaves clogged their views of the sky, shielded from the sun, the forest seemed murky green—almost impenetrable while the musty fragrance of the dense foliage lingered about the air. Terse looks of anxiety were exchanged, and then turned solemn.

  Trapped. That would be an overstatement. Enclosed, surrounded, or confined would be more apt descriptions. Either way the survival of the group was in peril.

  “How can we escape? How can we—“ Homura, cautious and a little paranoid at times, burst out.

  “Homura don’t be such a coward!” Koharu cuts him off, strong-minded, abrasive and bold—her and Homura make a fitting duo, balancing rashness and heedfulness to the perfect proportions. “We’ll have to fight our way out!”

  _No, no…_ “That won’t work!” This time it’s Kagami who interjects someone’s speech. “We’ll all die that way! Someone would have to lure them away!”

  Instantaneously, all gazes were fixed upon him, intent and inquiring.

  Then Torifu talks up, good old loyal Torifu who’s been Kagami’s closest friend since their Team was formed.

 

**VII**

  Afterwards Tobirama-sama had acted as a decoy, luring away the Kinkaku and Ginkaku squads whilst the remaining shinobi paved a way out of the forest. It was a noble act and shortly before his sacrifice, the Senju gazed sternly at Kagami, a warm, paternal air poorly concealed beneath it and uttered his final words.

  “Watch over village; watch over your clan.”

  With that, he plunged into the dark, dank foliage, plunging into the arms of death as a crow perched on a nearby tree screeched a heart-rending cry. No one ever accused Kagami for suggesting the idea of a decoy the first place, nobody had ever thought to accuse him yet a pestering sense of guilt continues to linger within the man and at times he wished he could take part of the blame.

 

**VIII**

  “Watch over the village; watch over your clan.” Those final words were ingrained into the man’s mind, the man’s life. Those words resonated loud and irrefutable during the foundation of the Konoha Military Police Force, whether its establishment was for better or worse, only time would tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback?


End file.
